S150

I check in on Ezebel, put a hand around her shoulder. “How you doing?”

“Recovering,” she says weakly.

“Did you see anything?”

She shakes her head as a tear escapes. “I was working my floor exercises right where Angi landed. I rose to get a drink, and she hit while my back was turned.”

I find that interesting. “How long were you doing floor exercises there?”

Ezebel considers that. “Ten minutes, maybe more.”

Draw a small space rocket in the “Artiste” box.